


The Silver Doe

by AnnaFugazzi



Series: HP April Fool's [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 16:18:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1905588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaFugazzi/pseuds/AnnaFugazzi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Silver Doe, from Deathly Hallows. Except, um, <i>not</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> My entry, for , was "The Silver Doe." I got the Golden Squid for Sweetest Lego Romance :)
> 
> This is in three parts:  
>  **Part I:** Word-free :)  
>  **Part II:** Canon text of The Silver Doe  
>  **Part III:** Canon Silver Doe goes kinda... sideways ;)
> 
>  
> 
> My giftee asked for, among other things, "Harry/Ron, hand holding, water, wandless magic, and lots of kissing." I could not manage wandless magic, and getting lego to kiss and hold hands is way tougher than I imagined, but I hope you'll like it anyway :)
> 
>  
> 
>  **Medium:** Lego and four P's: Photography, Paint, Photoshop, and Plasticine.


	2. Part II

**Part II**

Thrashing, suffocating, he scrabbled at the strangling chain, his frozen fingers unable to loosen it, and now little lights were popping inside his head, and he was going to drown, there nothing left, nothing he could do, and the arms that around his chest were surely Death's...

Choking and retching, soaking and colder than he had ever been in his life, he came to, face down in the snow. Somewhere close by, another person was panting and coughing and staggering around. Hermione had come again, as she had come when the snake attacked ... yet it did not sound like her, not with those deep coughs, not judging by the weight of the footsteps...

Harry had no strength to lift his head and see his saviour's identity. All he could do was raise a shaking hand to his throat and feel the place where the locket had cut tightly into his flesh. It was gone: someone had cut him free. Then a panting voice spoke from over his head.

"Are — you — _mental?_ "

Nothing but the shock of hearing that voice could have given Harry the strength to get up. Shivering violently, he staggered to his feet. There before him stood Ron, fully dressed but drenched to the skin, his hair plastered to his face, the sword of Gryffindor in one hand and the Horcrux dangling from its broken chain in the other.

"Why the _hell_ ," panted Ron, holding up the Horcrux, which swung backwards and forwards on its shortened chain in some parody of hypnosis, "didn't you take this thing off before you dived?"

Harry could not answer. The silver doe was nothing, nothing compared with Ron's reappearance, he could not believe it. Shuddering with cold, he caught up the pile of clothes sill lying at the water's edge and began to pull them on. As he dragged sweater after sweater over his head, Harry stared at Ron, half expecting him to have disappeared every time he lost sight of him, and yet he had to be real: he had just dived into the pool, he had saved Harry's life.

"It was y — you?" Harry said at last, his teeth chattering, his voice weaker than usual due to his near-strangulation.

"Well, yeah," said Ron, looking slightly confused.

"Y — you cast that doe?"

"What? No, of course not! I thought it was you doing it!"

"My Patronus is a stag."

"Oh yeah. I thought it looked different. No antlers."

Harry put Hagrid's pouch back around his neck, pulled on a final sweater, stooped to pick up Hermione's wand and faced Ron again.

"How come you're here?"

Apparently Ron had hoped that this point would come up later, at all.

"Well, I've — you know — I've come back. If—" He cleared his throat. "You know. You still want me."

There was a pause, in which the subject of Ron's departure seemed to rise like a wall between them. Yet he was here. He had returned. He had just saved Harry's life.

Ron looked down at his hands. He seemed momentarily surprised to see the things he was holding.

"Oh yeah; I got it out," he said, rather unnecessarily, holding up the sword for Harry's inspection. "That's why you jumped in, right?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "But I don't understand. How did you get here? How did you find us?"

"Long story," said Ron. "I've been looking for you for hours, it's a big forest, isn't it? And I was just thinking I'd have to kip under a tree and wait for morning when I saw that deer coming, and you following."

"You didn't see anyone else?"

"No," said Ron. "I —," But he hesitated, glancing at two trees growing close together some yards away.

"- I did think I saw something move over there, but I was running to the pool at the time, because you'd gone in and you hadn't come up, so I wasn't going to make a detour to — hey!"

Harry was already hurrying to the place Ron had indicated. The two oaks grew close together; there was a gap of only a few inches between the trunks at eye-level, an ideal place to see, but not be seen. The ground around the roots, however, was free of snow and Harry could see no sign of footprints. He walked back to where Ron stood waiting, still holding the sword and the Horcrux.

"Anything there?" Ron asked.

"No," said Harry.

"So how did the sword get in that pool?"

"Whoever cast the Patronus must have put it there."

They both looked at the ornate silver sword, its rubied hilt glinting a little in the light from Hermione's wand.

"You reckon this is the real one?" asked Ron.

"One way to find out, isn't there?" said Harry.

The Horcrux was still swinging from Ron's hand. The locket was twitching slightly. Harry knew that the thing inside was agitated again. It had sensed the presence of the sword and had tried to kill Harry rather than let him possess it. Now was no time for long discussions; now was the moment to destroy locket once and for all. Harry looked around, holding Hermione's wand high, and saw the place: a flattish rock lying in the shadow of a sycamore tree.

"Come here," he said, and he led the way, brushed snow from the rock's surface and held out his hand for the Horcrux. When Ron offered the sword, however, Harry shook his head.

"No, you should do it."

"Me?" said Ron, looking shocked. ‘Why?"

"Because you got the sword out of the pool. I think it's supposed to be you."

He was not being kind or generous. As certainly as he had known that the doe was benign, he knew that Ron had to be the one to wield the sword. Dumbledore had at least taught Harry something about certain kinds of magic, of the incalculable power of certain acts.

"I'm going to open it," said Harry, "and you stab it. Straight away, OK? Because whatever's in there will put up a fight. The bit of Riddle in the diary tried to kill me."

"How are you going to open it?" asked Ron. He looked terrified.

"I'm going to ask it to open, using Parseltongue," said Harry. The answer came so readily to his lips that he thought that he had always known it, deep down: perhaps it had taken his recent encounter with Nagini to make him realise it. He looked at the serpentine 'S', inlaid with glittering green stones: it was easy to visualise it as a minuscule snake, curled upon the cold rock.

"No!" said Ron, "no, don't open it! I'm serious!"

"Why not?" asked Harry. "Let's get rid of the damn thing, it's been months —"

"I can't, Harry, I'm serious — you do it —"

"But why?"

"Because that thing's bad for me!" said Ron, backing away from the locket on the rock. "I can't handle it! I'm not making excuses, Harry, for what I was like, but it affects me worse than it affected you and Hermione, it made me think stuff, stuff I was thinking anyway, but it made everything worse, I can't explain it, and then I take it off and I'd get my head on straight again, and then I'd have to put the effing thing back on — I can't do it, Harry!"

He had backed away, the sword dragging at his side, shaking his head.

"You can do it," said Harry, "you can! You've just got the sword, I know it's supposed to be you who uses it. Please, just get rid of it, Ron."

The sound of his name seemed to act like a stimulant. Ron swallowed, then, still breathing hard through his long nose, moved back towards the rock.

"Tell me when," he croaked.

"On three," said Harry, looking back down at the locket and narrowing his eyes, concentrating on the letter 'S', imagining a serpent, while the contents of the locket rattled like a trapped cockroach. It would have been easy to pity it, except that the cut around Harry's neck still burned.

"One ... two ... three ... open."

The last word came as a hiss and a snarl and the golden doors of the locket swung wide with a little click.

Behind both of the glass windows within blinked a living eye, dark and handsome as Tom Riddle's eyes had been before he turned them scarlet and slit-pupilled.

"Stab," said Harry, holding the locket steady on the rock.

Ron raised the sword in his shaking hands: the point dangled over the frantically swivelling eyes, and Harry gripped the locket tightly, bracing himself, already imagining blood pouring from the empty windows.

Then a voice hissed from out of the Horcrux.

" _I have seen your heart, and it is mine._ "

"Don't listen to it!" Harry said harshly. "Stab it!"

" _I have seen your dreams, Ronald Weasley, and I have seen your fears. All you desire is possible, but all that you dread is also possible..._ "

"Stab!" shouted Harry; his voice echoed off the surrounding trees, the sword point trembled, and Ron gazed down into Riddle's eyes.

" _Least loved, always, by the mother who craved a daughter ... least loved, now, by the girl who prefers your friend ... second best, always, eternally overshadowed ..._ "

"Ron, stab it now!" Harry bellowed: he could feel the locket quivering in his grip and was scared of what was coming. Ron raised the sword still higher, and as he did so, Riddle's eye gleamed scarlet.

Out of the locket's two windows, out of the eyes, there bloomed, like two grotesque bubbles, the heads of Harry and Hermione, weirdly distorted.

Ron yelled in shock and backed away as the figures blossomed out of the locket, first chests, then waists, then legs, until they stood in the locket, side by side like trees with a common root swaying over Ron and the real Harry, who had snatched his fingers away from the locket as it burned, suddenly, white-hot.

"Ron!" he shouted, but the Riddle-Harry was now speaking with Voldemort's voice and Ron was gazing, mesmerised, into its face.

" _Why return? We were better without you, happier without you, glad of your absence ... we laughed at your stupidity, your cowardice, your presumption —_ "

" _Presumption!_ " echoed the Riddle-Hermione, who was more beautiful and yet more terrible than the real Hermione: she swayed, cackling, before Ron, who looked horrified yet transfixed, the sword hanging pointlessly at his side. " _Who could look at you, who would ever look at you, beside Harry Potter? What have you ever done, compared with the Chosen One? What are you, compared with the Boy Who Lived?_ "

"Ron, stab it, STAB IT!" Harry yelled, but Ron did not move: his eyes were wide, and the Riddle-Harry and the Riddle-Hermione were reflected in them, their hair swirling like flames, their eyes shining red, their voices lifted in an evil duet.

" _Your mother confessed,_ " sneered Riddle-Harry, while Riddle-Hermione jeered, " _that she would have preferred me as a son, would be glad to exchange..._ "

" _Who wouldn't prefer him, what woman would take you? You are nothing, nothing, nothing to him,_ " crooned Riddle-Hermione, and she stretched like a snake and entwined herself around Riddle-Harry, wrapping him in a close embrace: their lips met.


	3. Part III

Then Riddle-Hermione laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. " _Look at you - even now, pathetically trying to tell yourself that you're jealous of_ him _, that you want_ me _!_ " She shifted and suddenly Harry was gaping, dumbfounded as a monstrous version of Ginny swayed before them, next to Harry, in Hermione's place.

" _You don't even want to admit to yourself, you're still trying to fool yourself..._ " and Riddle-Ginny turned and caught Riddle-Harry's hand, pulling him to her, their lips coming together in a passionate embrace.

Erm... what?

" _You tell yourself that it doesn't bother you to see him with me. You even tell yourself that it pleases you, because you and he can never be together, but perhaps you can live vicariously through me..._ "

What the hell?

" _And it's all a lie, isn't it?_ " Riddle-Ginny went on, a smirk on her face. " _Because the thought of this -"_ and the forms kissed again, passionately - " _makes you sick. It isn't because you're understandably protective of your younger sister; it's because you want him for your own._ "

Harry felt his mouth fall open.

" _You tell yourself that I don't want you, because I don't want men,_ " said Riddle-Harry, turning to Ron, a half-grin on his face.

" _And that you wouldn't want men either, if only you could stop,_ " Riddle-Ginny said, her voice mocking. " _If only everything you wanted to feel about Hermione were true._ "

Ron gaped at the two figures swaying above him.

Riddle-Harry smirked. " _But it's as easy to convince yourself of that as it is to convince yourself that it's all right that I always overshadow you._ "

Riddle-Ginny threw back her head and laughed. " _And the truly pathetic thing is that he was as capable of convincing himself that he loved me as you are of convincing yourself that you love Hermione._ "

" _At least I didn't waste years trying to convince myself, the way you have_ ," sneered Riddle-Harry.

" _Why else do you think it was so easy for him to leave me behind?_ "

" _I want men, just as much as you do,_ " said Riddle-Harry, and Harry swallowed hard.

" _He simply doesn't want_ you," tittered Riddle-Ginny.

Suddenly her form started to dissolve, splitting into four vaguely ginger-looking shapes.

" _Don't worry, you won't have to stand by and watch him marry your little sister,_ " said a form that solidified itself into a distorted version of Bill Weasley. " _You won't have to try to tell yourself the only reason it's not you is that it can't be._ "

" _You'll watch him pursue your brothers instead,_ " said Charlie Weasley, coming into shape behind Bill, as the twins took form as well.

" _You were always the least of them,_ " sneered Riddle-Harry.

" _Your eldest brothers: dashing and dangerous,_ " said Riddle-Charlie.

" _Your twin brothers: brilliant and entertaining,_ " said Riddle-Fred and George.

" _And all of them except the_ traitor _more interesting to him than you,_ " said Riddle-Bill.

" _And soon he'll show you,_ " said Riddle-Charlie.

" _He'll show you how much he wants everyone,_ " said Riddle-Fred and George. " _Everyone... but you._ "

On the ground in front of them, Ron's face filled with anguish: he raised the sword high, his arms shaking.

"Do it, Ron!' Harry yelled.

Ron looked towards him and Harry thought he saw a trace of scarlet in his eyes.

"Ron —?"

The sword flashed, plunged: Harry threw himself out of the way, there was a clang of metal and a long, drawn-out scream.

Harry whirled round, slipping in the snow, wand held ready to defend himself: but there was nothing to fight.

The monstrous versions of himself and Ron's brothers were gone: there was only Ron, standing there with the sword held slackly in his hand, looking down at the shattered remains of the locket on the flat rock. 

Slowly, Harry walked back to him, hardly knowing what to say or do. Ron was breathing heavily. His eyes were no longer red at all but their normal blue; they were also wet.

Harry stooped, pretending he had not seen, and picked up the broken Horcrux. Ron had pierced the glass in both windows: Riddle's eyes were gone, and the stained silk lining of the locket was smoking slightly. The thing that had lived in the Horcrux had vanished; torturing Ron had been its final act.

The sword clanged as Ron dropped it. He had sunk to his knees, his head in his arms. He was shaking, but not, Harry realised, from cold. Harry crammed the broken locket into his pocket, knelt down beside Ron and placed a hand, cautiously, on his shoulder. He took it as a good sign that Ron did not throw it off.

"After you left," he said in a low voice, grateful for the fact that Ron's face was hidden, "Hermione cried for a week. Probably longer, only she didn't want me to see. There were loads of nights when we never even spoke to each other. With you gone..."

He could not finish; it was only now that Ron was here again that Harry fully realised how much his absence had cost them.

"She's like my sister," he went on. "I love her like a sister and I reckon she feels the same way about me. It's always been like that. I thought you knew."

He hesitated, knowing he couldn't just leave it there, but utterly clueless as to what to do or say next.

Because the rest of what Riddle had said... it would be just like Riddle, to make something up. After all, he'd started with the Hermione angle, and Harry could certainly believe that Ron would've felt jealous of Harry and Hermione, after what he'd said right before he left...

Had Riddle realized that Ron wouldn't believe that Hermione wanted Harry instead? Had he just made up the rest?

Then again, if his understanding of Ron's feelings was as complete as his understanding of Harry's...

Harry's flesh crawled. That _bastard's_ disgusting soul-nibblet had rested against Harry's chest for weeks, and then tried to strangle him less than an hour ago. That piece of his soul had looked into Harry and seen the slow realization he'd come to, that he didn't just miss Ron the way anyone would miss his best mate. That he wasn't just jealous of his two best friends starting a relationship separate from him. That his feelings for the absent Ginny were light-years away from his feelings for Ron. That he didn't just miss Ron. He missed a lot more.

Riddle had been right about Harry. How right had he been about Ron?

Harry forced himself to take a deep breath and gathered his strength, and forced himself to say what he probably shouldn't say, not like this, not right now. What he would never have said if Riddle hadn't forced his hand.

He walked around in front of Ron and put a hand on Ron's arm, waiting until Ron raised his head.

"Ron... Hermione's like my sister." He took another deep breath. "And so is Ginny."

Ron did not respond for an agonizingly long time.

"Was it true, what the locket said?" asked Harry. Ron was motionless. "About you, that is? Because part of what it said about me is right too."

"Which part?"

"I... I don't want any of your brothers, Ron." He cleared his throat. "But I also don't want Ginny. I thought I did, honestly. I love her, but. She's almost like a sister to me too. I think..." Ron's eyes locked with his, and suddenly it was both easier and more difficult to finish the sentence. "I think just about any girl would be."

Ron was just staring at him. And they were ridiculously close, and - "I'm sorry," said Harry, and started to pull back. Because God, if this was all some trick of Riddle's...

Ron grabbed his arm, preventing him from backing up. "Really?"

"What?" Harry straightened up, this had been a terrible mistake, bloody locket, bloody Voldemort and his mind games--

Ron stood up with him, still gripping his arm, and brought him closer. "Really, you feel like that about girls?"

Harry blinked. "Erm."

Ron brought his face closer, his breath whispering over Harry's cheek.

"Because, erm, I do too. If you do."

Harry couldn't help the grin that spread across his face, and he drew in his breath as Ron's large hand covered his.

"Why didn't you say anything?” asked Ron quietly.

Harry swallowed.

Suddenly there was no need to say anything else - no questions or explanations or excuses. Harry tentatively pulled Ron towards him, and Ron was still sopping wet and freezing cold, but Harry couldn't have cared less as Ron swayed forward and their lips touched. Ron's mouth was cold, his entire body shivering, and their kiss was clumsy and confusing and they were both almost laughing with relief and who knew what else, and despite everything that had happened and everything that was probably going to happen, it was by far the most _brilliant_ kiss Harry had ever experienced.

"And now," said Harry, as they broke apart, "all we've got to do is find the tent again."


End file.
